


though I'll never like you, it's nice to realize that maybe you're not the worst thing ever

by janie_tangerine



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Archery, Bickering, Crack Treated Seriously, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, Jon Snow knows something, POV Outsider, Season/Series 06, Season/Series 06 Spoilers, Setting Zombies on Fire, Spoilers, The Author Regrets Nothing, The King in The North, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Wishful Thinking, also this is not pre-slash anymore, as much as it can be stated for this damned series, in which jon is the sam to theon's bucky, sadly no car seats could be moved but i tried my best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7140056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You’re bloody impossible, do you know that?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“And it’s nice to see you’re still an ass. Some things really never change. Now, are you going to do it or not?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Fine, fine, I will, but you’re still a fucking bastard, note that down.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You know, it’s almost a compliment if you say it.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Fuck you.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Likewise, Greyjoy. Can I expect my archers to be halfway decent before we march?”</i>
</p><p>Or: in which Jon quite literally annoys Theon into being a functional person. Sansa doesn't do a thing to discourage it.</p><p>Oh, and then this verse turned into a last-half-of-S6-fix-it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tldr: an anon comes to me on tumblr during a discussion of whether the show's approach to, uh, *Yara* dealing with her brother's issues was legitimate (spoilers: not a fan) with 'but what about Jon treating Theon like Sam treated Bucky' and man. That stuff it catnip to me I couldn't not. And I kind of liked how it turned out so hey why not posting it properly.
> 
> If you saw Captain America: Civil War this is probably a lot funnier. If you haven't I'm not really spoiling you anything - I kept a couple of lines reworked but if you don't know the source you wouldn't see it. Don't worry you don't need to know it to appreciate. Also works on the premise that Theon hears that those two are low on men and convinces *Yara* to lend him some ships so he can go help them. I KNOW UNLIKELY BUT HEY IT'S NOT LIKE THE SHOW'S CONTINUITY IS ANY BETTER. The title is from a Galavant song and I own absolutely nothing except the crack. Thanks anon your ask was a blessing.

Fact is: Sansa had been overjoyed when receiving the letter, and not just because Theon  _had_  brought them men they sorely needed before she could think of involving Petyr in this when she’d have rather not. She _had_  in fact worried about Jon’s reaction to him joining their ranks might have been, but she _had_  told him how she escaped from Winterfell, and Theon had looked honestly terrified when he and Jon had found themselves face to face. Jon, though, had just told him that obviously it looked like he meant to help them and it’d have been Robb’s business to decide whether he deserved forgiveness or not, or at most Sansa’s, certainly not his. Theon had looked fairly relieved at that.

Then - well, he had looked fairly _not all right at all_  for the entirety of the few days he’s been here. Which Sansa can’t fault him for - and she doesn’t even know how to go there and actually ask, because the one time she did he about bottled up and said that he was fine and he didn’t need to talk about it or anything, and it was obvious from the look on his face that he was lying but - but she has a clue of what he’s going through and she couldn’t bring herself to push any further. Not when she did push enough, back in Winterfell, didn’t she?

Now he’s heading for the tent where everyone has lunch, bringing his plate with shaking hands, and Sansa notices that the only place left that’s there is next to Jon. Well, _sort of_  - it’s a bit of space, not enough for a grown man to fit into unless Jon moves.

She’s about to move herself and see if she can make some space, maybe she should spare Theon the trouble given that not many northmen are too happy about him being around the premises, but then - then Theon swallows and moves closer to Jon.

“Er,” he starts, stumbling over his words. “Can - could I - could you - can I sit here? My lord?”

Jon turns and shoots him a fairly unimpressed look. Then he looks at his plate. Then -

“I’m not your lord.”

Right. _Neither_  of them was expecting that. Theon just stares down at Jon, obviously working through whatever it is that he might have said wrong. “Can I sit here?”

“Maybe. There’s space, isn’t it?”

For a moment, Sansa wants to just tell Jon to put a stop to it, they always bickered in Winterfell but this isn’t really the place or time to -

Then Theon’s eyes narrow and wait, does he look _annoyed_?

“There’s - space?”

“You’re welcome to sit down. Who said you couldn’t?”

“But - maybe - if you move -”

“I think you can fit in there yourself.”

Jon just sends Theon a look that’s pure - challenge? Sansa doesn’t know, but then Theon  _huffs_  and pretty much goes and tries to sit down - Jon _does_  move a tiny bit at that, but Theon kind of has to put an elbow in Jon’s side in order to carve himself a place.

“Well, _thanks_ ,” Theon finally says once seated, but it doesn’t sound deferential at all.

“Aren’t you sitting?” And then Jon _smirks_  and goes back to his food. Has he actually  _smirked_  since they met again?

Sansa doesn’t know what in the seven hells Jon is thinking he’s doing, but maybe telling him to tone it down is not a good idea right now.

–-

The next day, they’re going over weaponry. They put a few smiths making dragonglass arrow points in case they’re needed, but at the same time others are making normal ones. Theon’s sitting on the side, and no one’s really paying much attention to him. Sansa is about to go there just to see if he needs anything - she’s feeling sort of bad about how he’s _not_  even close to fit in, and about how nothing’s really different from how it was before, isn’t it, and then Jon moves past her with a resigned look on his face, a bow in his hands and a bunch of arrows. Then he stops in front of Theon.

“Greyjoy,” he says.

“My lord?”

“I’m not your lord. Also, here.”

He pretty much dumps both arrows and bow in Theon’s hands and good thing that he doesn’t let them drop.

“What -”

“I’m saying this once only. That bow belonged to someone I used to know. She’d have hated it if I gave it to someone who couldn’t use it. From what I see you have enough fingers to do it, and we need men, so you’re taking it and that’s final. Understood?”

“Why _me_?”

Jon openly rolls his eyes. “Because from what I’ve seen and from what I remember you were better with it than anyone else is in this bloody camp. _Understood_?”

“ _Fine_ ,” Theon spits back, and as Jon turns and leaves he suddenly looks completely floored at how _spiteful_  that sounded.

Jon is smirking to himself as he leaves.

Sansa is sure he has some kind of plan here, and she doesn’t know what it is but it does seem to be working, so she’s not going to jinx it for the moment.

–-

Then it happens that a group of White Walkers _does_  find their camp before they can march.

Good thing that they had secured the perimeters and so with a few good archers they can handle it - Sansa, of course, stays behind, but the tent she’s in is near enough the perimeter to see and hear what’s going on and -

“Greyjoy, _seven hells_ , cover me already!”

“I’m _trying_ , what the hell are these things even?”

“Yeah, _well_ , they come in all forms these days,” Jon says as he stabs through one of the walkers’ chest.

“You know we can’t take them one by one, _right_?”

“Someone likes to be fucking obvious today - wait a moment. Can you cover us?”

The other people around them shout that they can and Jon runs into Sansa’s tent.

“I need the torch,” he says, going for the fire burning in the middle of it. “And I need old clothes. Do we have any?”

“Take my old dress,” she says - it’s in her half-opened trunk of what few belongings she has, anyway. And it was the one she had on when they escaped. Good riddance. Theon walks in, too, and -

“Here,” Jon says, handing him a piece of fabric. “Tie it around that arrow, put it on fire and throw it at them. You _can_  without hitting our tents, right?”

“I can, and _couldn’t you have thought about that earlier_?” Theon asks, and it’s obvious that it’s the heat of the moment and he’s not thinking about being proper.

“Seven hells, _I hate you_ ,” Jon sighs, and puts the torch in front of him. Theon about rolls his eyes openly before he puts the arrow tip on the torch - the moment it catches, he runs out again and fires it at the walkers. He does it again and and again, and -

And it works, gods be good. By the time it’s clear that no one died and there’s no new ones coming in, people are looking at Theon with _some_  respect and both he and Jon are looking at each other with - well. There's respect in there, too. Grudging, maybe, but it's there.

 _Really_?

–-

“Snow, for - what does this even _mean_?”

“That since you’re obviously the most capable person at shooting arrows and we have two days before we march I put you in charge of teaching the ones who can’t?”

“You put _me_  in charge.”

“Well, you’re the best at it, would I put in charge of that someone who can’t even hold that right?”

“But -”

“No buts, or have you forgotten that I’m actually in charge here?”

“You’re bloody _impossible_ , do you know that?”

“And it’s nice to see you’re still an ass. Some things really never change. Now, are you going to do it or not?”

“ _Fine_ , fine, I will, but you’re still a fucking bastard, note that down.”

“You know, it’s almost a compliment if _you_  say it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Likewise, Greyjoy. Can I expect my archers to be halfway decent before we march?”

“Who do you even take me for?”

“My lady,” Lord Davos says, moving near her, “is _that_  - normal?”

Sansa can’t keep the smirk from her lips. “They used to be like that all the time back in Winterfell.”

“Well,” Lord Davos says cautiously, “from what I see it doesn’t… seem like a bad thing?”

Sansa thinks about how _relieved_  Jon looks like these days whenever they go through a nice round of insulting each other the same way they used to back in the day, then she thinks about how Theon is not flinching around everyone else lately and about how he seems to mean it when she asks and he says he’s coping, and she smiles.

“I think it’s a very good thing,” she says, and means every word of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Theon being present for the battle against Ramsay means a substantially different outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone left me a prompt going like, _Fic prompt for the Theon-stays-North thing only where Theon's on a faster horse and DOES manage to save Rickon and/or where he convinces Sansa to not pay Ramsay back in kind for what he did to them. I have a mighty need. ;_;_. I thought HEY LET'S TOTALLY DO A SEQUEL TO THAT THEON AND JON AS BUCKY AND SAM THING. It's not *exactly* like that because I had a better idea than the faster horse thing, but still. Have a fix-it. :D (spoilers: I wasn't too fond of Rickon being offed and Ramsay dying LIKE THAT because of *Sansa*, so I figured I'd just go for it.)

He doesn’t go when Jon and Sansa ride out to _talk_  to Ramsay. Sansa doesn’t ask and he doesn’t volunteer. And he’s honestly not at all all right with the idea of even seeing Ramsay again, never mind hearing him talk - who knows -

_Who knows_.

He stays at the camp. When they come back, they all look - well, _bad_. Sansa is livid, Jon is pensive and trying to come up with a decent battle scheme even if they are outnumbered, Sansa says nothing but doesn’t look like she approves of it and by the time everyone has decided what they’re going to do in the morrow he’s this tempted to leave the tent just because the tension is suffocating, but before he can Sansa goes up to Jon and starts talking.

Gods, Theon sort of knows that she might have some ace up her sleeve when it comes to _men_ , even if she wouldn’t tell him what exactly, but he can see that Jon can’t exactly wait around camp hoping for some miracle if she doesn’t tell him, and then -

“I’ve fought worse than Ramsay Bolton,” Jon says.

“You don’t _know_  him,” Sansa snaps back, and -

Maybe two months ago he’d have kept his mouth shut, but he has thrown insults at Jon enough in the last few weeks that he knows that he won’t mind if he does what he’s about to do.

“Sansa, maybe he doesn’t, but I think I might know him better,” he interrupts, standing up, and - for a moment they both turn to look at him, and Sansa’s face goes from hard to slightly softer, and she says nothing. Jon just looks at him as if he’s asking him to finish that thought. “I mean. I don’t want to - I _know_ , I do, but I - he had me longer. I know how he thinks. Your brother’s most probably alive still and he’s going to be until you see him again.”

“And how do you know for sure?” Jon asks.

“Because he’ll want to rile you up and use him for that. And it’s not that you might have made him angry before - he probably has been planning it since he learned about the two of you asking other houses for support, if I know him.” He shudders. If he thinks that it’s  _his_  fault that Rickon’s there in the first place -

He’s never going to accomplish anything with that line of thinking.

“Never mind. It’s going to be public. And he’s not going to kill him first thing.”

“No?”

“No. He’ll think up something to keep you on edge. And him, most probably.” He takes a deep breath. “He used to - hunt people in the woods of the Dreadfort.”

“ _What_?” Sansa sounds horrified and Jon - Jon says nothing but he looks like he might be sick.

“They’d just - they’d run and he’d go after them and hunt them. With arrows. And then - depends on how long they managed to last.” He flinches again. “I won’t be surprised if that’s what he does with _him_  tomorrow.”

“Could he even manage it?”

“He’s good enough,” Theon has to admit.

“As good as _you_  were?” Jon asks, cutting it to the point. For a moment Theon allows himself to feel slightly flattered, same as what happens whenever Jon says the exact same thing even if it’s usually surrounded by an amount of insults that would be a deterrent to anyone else. 

“Not as I _was_. Now - well. If it comes to that - who knows. I’m still good, I guess.”

“You impressed _Tormund_ , you asshole, stop it. Are you saying that we should be ready for something like that?”

“Get a fast horse,” Theon tells him. “And be ready for it.”

And - gods, he had thought he’d sit the battle out because he’s not sure he could even handle it, but - but it’s _his_  fault, and he came here to make amends, and if Jon somehow thought he could be trusted he doesn’t want to disappoint that, and maybe -

“I’m coming, too.”

“ _What_? You said -” Jon starts.

“I don’t know if I can be in a battle. But if I don’t _have_  to - I might have to be there. You don’t have anyone else good enough to do what I think might be needed.”

“As in?”

Theon takes another deep breath. “Let’s say he uses arrows. Someone _good_  might use the same weapon to make sure he doesn’t hit the target. But - I don’t think anyone around our army can pull that off.”

“They can’t,” Jon agrees. “Can you?”

“I could have one day. I guess I can find out tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Sansa asks, sounding concerned. Of course she’d be.

“I guess I’ll find out, too.”

Neither of them insists and Theon figures he’ll go try and have some sleep. If he doesn’t have nightmares, which might most probably happen, but if he does - he’ll deal, he guesses.

–

He wishes he hadn’t been right. The moment he hears Ramsay tell Rickon he has to run, Theon _knows_  what he’s going to do.

Gods, his fingers are shaking just because he’s _hearing_  his voice, and good thing Ramsay doesn’t know he’s here at all or he doesn’t know if he could function, but -

“Are you all right?”

Lord Seaworth is looking at him as if he’s _worried_ , which is already confusing enough in itself, but -

Theon grabs at the bow that apparently belonged to someone Jon was somehow attached to and gets ready.

“No, but I have to be,” he replies, and then he concentrates.

Ramsay will draw it out. He knows he will. The first two arrows are landing far enough from the poor boy, but he’s barely even halfway the damned field. Jon is making that horse _run_  but it’s still not fast enough, is it?

The third arrow lands close but not enough. Gods, good thing that Ramsay never even touched his eyes because he can _see_  even too well, and -

They’re close. They’re really getting close. Enough that Jon might start feeling hopeful. Enough that _Rickon_  would. Theon can’t see Ramsay’s expression from here but he _knows_  he’s probably smirking.

He breathes in - if he fucks this one up they’re done, he figures, and he can’t shoot at Ramsay, he’s too far, but -

But the next arrow won’t be. He stays on his horse, he wills his fingers to go still, he _looks_  at the field, he does the math in his head that he always used to do whenever he tried this kind of shots way back in the day and when he sees the arrow firing _exactly_  towards Rickon’s back he breathes again and lets his own go at what he hopes is the right moment.

It was a good shot, at least. Now if it actually works -

“ _How_?” Tormund shouts from his left side as Theon’s arrow hits Ramsay’s and breaks its run - the moment it happens Jon’s horse finally gets _there_  and he hauls Rickon up on it, and gods _did he do it_  -

“It worked,” Theon says, and he sounds more surprised than anyone else looking at him right now.

“That was a good shot if I ever saw one,” Lord Seaworth agrees. “And you look like you’re going to faint. Given that I think you don’t want to be in the midst of it, _maybe_  you should go worry about someone else who shouldn’t, though.”

Theon understands at once and he really isn’t sure he wants to do this right _now_ , but he knows Lord Seaworth’s right. He grabs at his horse’s reins and heads towards the middle of the camp where Jon is heading at - he dismounts and waits where Jon was standing before. He can see the horse coming their way at a run - Jon stops it at once when he’s finally back within the ranks. Rickon’s clinging to him, perfectly understandable, and Theon just can’t help thinking _if it wasn’t for me this would have never come to pass_  -

Jon dismounts, carrying his brother and all, and then he looks straight at Theon.

“ _That_  was what you meant with _I can find out tomorrow_?”

“I guess I can?” Theon says, not even knowing what he should answer.

“Fuck’s sake, stop that, it was - it was just -” Jon seems completely at a loss for words, but then Rickon moves away from him and notices _Theon_  standing right there. Jon looks at the both of them and then his eyes turn determined again.

“Theon. Bring him _out_. _I_  am worrying about Bolton. Now.”

“As his lordship wishes,” Theon snaps back, unable to keep it in - now that he started again he thinks he really can’t bloody stop even if this is hardly the right moment.

“I’m not your fucking lord. Again. Rickon, we can trust him. Sansa’s out back, too. Let me deal with this, all right?”

Rickon gives him a tiny nod and follows Theon up on his horse even if it’s with some reluctancy - he goes ahead. Good, at least Theon can apologize without having to look at him in the eyes -

“That arrow - was that you?” Rickon asks. Theon can barely hear it.

“Yes,” Theon says. “I - I knew he’d do it.”

“How?”

“He - he took me prisoner after I lost Winterfell. I’m - I’m sorry for that. I know I can never repay it, and this is nothing in comparison, but - I’m trying. You don’t have to like it -”

“You saved my life,” Rickon says, still staring ahead at him. “It might count for something.”

He sounds like he’s about to start crying, which Theon understands even too well - he makes the horse go faster until he’s finally outside the army ranks and going up the hill where Sansa said she’d be and where she _is_.

When she sees them moving closer she gets down her horse, too - Theon stops his own and lets Rickon get down first. He dismounts slower as they run and clutch at each other and when Sansa looks at him over Rickon’s shoulder she looks so relieved and thankful that  _he_  almost feels overwhelmed.

Well, he thinks, at least now he knows he had it in him to do this.

It’s more than enough for now.

–

“He deserves his own dogs,” Sansa says a long time later.

Jon is covered in dirt and mud, so much you can barely see his skin through it. Theon on the other side isn’t, which is fairly mindboggling for now given that the last time he set foot in Winterfell he went by Reek and hadn’t taken a bath in weeks.

“Maybe he does,” Jon agrees, “but - but isn’t it the way he’d have done it?”

“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” Theon says. Both Jon and Sansa turn towards him, again, and - gods, it’s weird that they’re actually hearing his opinion out, but he’ll get adjusted to it again, he figures. “If you feed him to the damned dogs he’ll just be happy that he got to you enough to make you do it. I know he’d be. He deserves it, I’m sure, but - I know he’d be.”

Jon nods tiredly. “So what do you suggest? Clean beheading? Seems a bit anticlimactic, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe, but he’d hate anticlimactic. And I don’t want to be near it.”

“Really?” Jon asks. “I imagined that -”

“No. I stopped him before. That was enough. I don’t want to see him and I don’t want him to see me either.” He knows he couldn’t handle it. He could barely handle _hearing_  Ramsay before. He knows it’d just make him more miserable and he doesn’t want to hear Ramsay calling him _Reek_  at any point ever and he knows he’d do it.

And the moment he stopped him before, he had felt - not free, but maybe years ago he’d have thought something along the lines _now go fuck yourself, I pulled one on you, didn’t I_?, and he hasn’t now, but - but he knows Ramsay hasn’t ruined him completely and that’s enough. He can live without getting revenge himself, never mind that there’s no revenge he can imagine taking on him personally.

“Fine, but I want him to see _me_ ,” Sansa says. “Father always used to say that who passes the sentence should swing the sword. I’m going to pass the sentence if it kills me.”

Jon nods - he moves as if every bone in his body hurts, which is fairly understandable. “Very well. That said, maybe we could compromise.”

“Compromise?” Sansa asks.

“He’s right - Bolton doesn’t deserve to see us stoop down to his level. No one forbids me to give the body to the dogs, though.”

Somehow, Theon thinks, it doesn’t seem like a bad compromise. Not at all.

–

He doesn’t watch Ramsay die. He doesn’t watch his body being carried out in the yard. He doesn’t expect Jon to come up to him later.

“Right,” he says, his fingers dirty with blood. “I need a bath. And then I need to rest. But I just wanted to tell you something.”

“Very well.”

“The person who owned that bow I gave you.”

“Yes?”

“She’d have been proud of that damn shot. And she wasn’t too easy to please. In every sense.”

“Snow, are you saying what I think -”

“And that’s all I’m saying on the matter. Go get some sleep, too, your fingers are shaking.”

With that he disappears into the hallway.

Theon looks at his hand. It’s trembling, yes, but he thinks it’s in relief, and it’s a feeling he thinks he likes quite a lot.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anon on tumblr asked, _Theon sees Jon "What made you cut your beloved hair?" Jon having heard what Ramsay did to Theon "I'm glad the motherfucker didn't break your spirit entirely"_. I don't even know if they were prompting me or not but hey there was prompts-taking going on I just filled it and figured it could go in this 'verse too. Have another small scene before I actually make them kiss next round.

Winterfell is quieter than it should be, Theon thinks as he walks through the godswood. Once upon a time you could hear noise coming from the castle even if you were this far. Now there’s only silence, and the castle isn’t half as lively as it used to be, but then again after what just went down what did he even expect?

He sits down under one of the heart trees the way he had seen both Lord and Lady Stark do a long time ago, and even if the snow is cold he doesn’t really mind it. He’s had worse. A lot worse. He closes his eyes, enjoying the quiet for a long moment - gods, he had thought he had forgotten how it felt to just relieve in silence.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts, but at some point he hears steps coming closer. He doesn’t move.

“I hope you’re not freezing over there.”

Theon opens his eyes and looks up at Jon, who’s standing not too far from him. He’s not wearing armor - just leather - and he has cleaned up from all the dirt and blood he had on him when he beheaded Ramsay still. He still looks completely tired and as if he could do with a year of uninterrupted rest.

“I’ve been through a lot worse than some snow. I’m not.”

“Well, good to know. I was just - well, no one could see you anywhere and given that you haven’t come back in hours -”

“Were you _worried_?”

Jon shrugs and glares at him, but it’s half-hearted. “No, asshole, I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t accidentally fallen into some ice. By the way, we did give the body to the dogs.”

“Good. Nothing less than he deserved.”

“Are you going to come back if I leave you here?”

“Where would I even go? Maybe I just want to wait until tomorrow to face your brother, though.”

“You saved his fucking life and Sansa told him the rest. And he’s been Ramsay’s prisoner for - long enough, as far as _he’_ s concerned. He doesn’t hate you.”

“He should.”

“Oh, for the love of the gods, stop with that. Sansa has forgiven you, he certainly doesn’t hate you and right now the only thing I hate about you is that you still think I should have taken _your_  head.”

He can’t help it - he does laugh some before standing up, shrugging snow from his clothes. “Fine, _fine_ , you win, more or less. Gods, you _did_  become even more pushy since I last saw you. Was that because they cut your precious hair? Actually, _what_  made you cut that damned hair? You wouldn’t let scissors come near it back in the day.”

Jon stares at him and then _laughs_ , openly and in a way he hadn’t done since they met again, and _what is even happening_? 

“Wasn’t my choice,” he finally says. “But you know something? When you showed up first I just couldn’t - really understand it. I mean. You looked - never mind how you looked. But I thought - Sansa told me and I could imagine what _he_  could have done to you, and - let me say it, it’s nice to see that monster couldn’t really ruin your spirit, you know? Even if you’re still a fucking asshole. And if you want to eat something, come back before sunset or you won’t find anything left.”

Then he just stares at him for a moment longer and turns to go back to the castle, that cloak so similar to Ned Stark’s leaving a trail in the snow behind him, and Theon -

Theon doesn’t know what was Jon even thinking or why he’d say that, but he has to reach up to wipe at his eyes, and he had also forgotten that it was nice to cry because something _good_  happened.

All things considered, he’s not regretting having come here at all, he thinks, and he’s smiling himself as he walks back towards Winterfell, too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jon is crowned King in the North and Theon has feelings about it. To maybe no one's surprise at this point, they're not negative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So post-finale, another anon is like _To celebrate the ending of yet another season, what about writing part 3 of that Jon/Theon piece? They say third time is the charm so maybe we can hope in a well-deserves kiss? ;);)_ (obviously then it turned out being part four because I wrote the previous missing scene for someone else AFTER but), and who am I to write an alternative KitN scene where Theon's there as he was meant to be? ;) Anyway I think this is the end for now since it was basically canon wishful thinking fix-it and the season's over but who knows, if I get more ideas for this verse I might expand. That said here you go have them getting over themselves, they earned it.

“The King in the North!” Manderly shouts, and Theon almost wants to  _completely absolutely fucking faint_  at it, because he tries to not think about _that_  night or otherwise he’s just plainly miserable, but he can’t not right now. Not when Jon is standing up in the exact same way Robb had, looking at Sansa and Rickon in disbelief the way Robb had, and looking floored the way Robb had.

He can’t stand up and pledge his sword, though - now that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it. Sansa is smiling openly, Rickon looks ecstatic, and then Jon raises a hand and clears his throat. To  _Theon_  he looks fucking terrified, but he’s pretending well enough.

“My lords,” he says, “I am glad to accept the title for now, but I - I shall be glad to pass it down to my brother when everything is said and done. _If_  it’s said and done.”

Rickon’s eyes go wide, people cheer all over again, and then Jon ends up looking at _him_.

Theon had never thought that he’d see Jon Snow sending him a glance that says openly _I have no clue what to do with this please tell me that I’m not fucking it up_.

“Nice to see that you’re the same honorable _bastard_ , no offense intended. _Your Grace,”_ he says, hoping that no one murders him for having spoken up, but then again he has brought them _ships_  and men, he did save Rickon’s life, he thinks they’ll let him be for now.

Jon actually bloody laughs. “I wouldn’t want to be any less. Well, my lords, I suppose that winter has come but we might feast for tonight. Shall we?”

_Everyone_  agrees loudly.

Theon lets out a breath of relief.

Jon looks grateful, for the moment their eyes meet again.

“That was well-played,” Lord Seaworth tells him under his breath as he sits down next to him.

Theon wants to think he’s right. For now, he’ll be satisfied with eating something before _he_  faints.

–

“I think you might be the only king who slips away from his own coronation,” Theon tells Jon later - he had noticed him leaving the room after telling Sansa and Rickon something and he had followed not long later. He’s sure no one noticed _him_. Jon is on the ramparts, looking out at the expanse of snow in front of them.

“Hilarious,” Jon sighs. “I barely even had a clue they’d do it. I mean, I imagined they’d make Sansa regent, not that -”

“You almost _died_  in that bloody battle, and they need a commander. Please don’t make _me_  be the voice of reason, I don’t think that was where we were headed when I got here.”

“And where did you think we were headed? Just out of curiosity.”

Theon shrugs, wrapping himself tighter in his furs - it’s bloody cold, but then again it’s winter, isn’t it. “I think we just wanted things to be the way they were. You more than me, but - well. Thanks for that. I mean. I’d have never imagined I’d thank you for telling me to go fuck myself every other moment, but I think I needed it.”

“Well, I think I needed it, too.”

“ _What_?”

“You said it. I wanted things to be how they were at least _somewhat_.”

“I guess it worked,” Theon admits. Then he says what he came here to tell him.

“Listen, I - I was there when Robb - when they crowned him. I think I’m the only one in that room who was.”

Jon turns and looks at him straight - gods, he’s so _not_  like Robb at all, but even if he has Ned Stark written all over him he couldn’t be more different either. For one, Ned Stark was always a lot colder than _this_.

“And?”

“I just - he looked the same way you did. He couldn’t believe it. And then he obviously took it for duty, also, but - anyway, that’s not what I really wanted to say.”

“All right. Go on.”

He takes a deep breath. “I asked - I told him I’d be his brother now and always. And I bended the knee. I thought I’d never have a reason to go back on that promise. And I did. I couldn’t - I couldn’t do the same now. Not just because it was in public, but we struck alliances before and I can’t - I just can’t.” He can’t say _I can’t give you something I gave him that freely and then threw away_. “But I want you to know that I could never do something like _that_  to you. Or Sansa. Or your brother. And I could do worse than having you in charge. At least you’re an _honorable bastard_.”

There’s _something_ in the way Jon looks at him that he cannot quite pinpoint, but it’s not - negative. He looks - he looks maybe moved?

He takes a few steps towards him - now they’re in front of each other, so close that they could touch if they moved an inch. With anyone else that isn’t Sansa maybe he’d start to fret, but right now - right now somehow he’s not.

“I think I understand,” Jon says slowly, his voice so low it’s barely audible. “And I think you should know something, too.”

“All right?”

“That bow I gave you.”

“Yes?”

“The person it belonged to.” He takes a deep breath. “I loved her,” he finally says, and it sounds like a confession.

“ _What_?”

“She was a wildling. It’s - a long story. I had to go beyond the Wall, live with them and come back to - to report, I suppose. But I fell - I loved her, truly. I thought I could never anyone as much as I loved her and maybe I never will. We were on opposite sides during a battle I had to command back on the Wall. She had taken it as a betrayal… which - well, she was right. On her side. She died in my arms.”

“Jon -”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I should have imagined that. But - I _know_ , all right? I know. I understand. And I think we’re past that now, are we? I mean, it’s obvious that you regret what you did, you did everything you could to make up for it and we arrived this far, it’s really useless to hold grudges. So - thank you.”

“You don’t have to -”

“I know what you just offered. _Thank you_.”

He expects Jon to leave at that, but then - then he glances around the ramparts, sees that no one’s there, and moves even closer.

“Snow, what are you doing?”

“I don’t think you’ll get it otherwise. If you don’t want it, _say_  it.”

And then his lips press against Theon’s, slow but _there_  and with intent, and Theon can’t help it - he freezes on the spot, because _what is he even doing, is he really_  -

_But gods, it doesn’t feel bad_ , he thinks before Jon moves away. He’s smiling maybe a tiny bit. “That’s how much I’m not _really_  angry with you. By the way, I never was for real even back in the day. Most times. But you really were an ass and I’m not changing my mind about that.”

“I’m not denying it,” Theon breathes out, trying to not feel too elated, and trying to not think about _why_  his entire body is feeling warm in a _good_  way. “And you really were an annoying little broody shit most of the time.”

“If you ever call me Your Grace again instead of that I’m going to be very displeased.”

Theon almost chokes on laughter, and doesn’t tell Jon _he said that, too_ , because he doesn’t need to know or to be compared to Robb all the time, and maybe Theon’s just realized it lately, but - there really isn’t the need.

All things considered, maybe he does like Jon Snow a lot better than he thought he ever would.

“Fine. I’ll remember that. _Your Grace_ ,” he says, and gods but it feels good to see Jon look up at the sky as if he’s exasperated. Then he doesn’t anymore, and Theon -

Theon thinks he wants to actually reciprocate this time.

He breathes in, puts his whole hand on the side of Jon’s neck and their mouths meet in between.

It’s not really the kind of kiss that turns you upside down, Theon reasons, and the both of them are obviously out of practice with this, but it feels _good_ , and maybe they’re not just trying to desperately get back what made them happy in another life, though admittedly not so long ago. Even if it feels like that.

Jon presses a bit further, Theon parts his lips just enough for Jon to make the kiss slightly deeper, and no, this isn’t the same thing as the first time he witnessed a coronation of a king in the North.

He finds himself elated as he realizes that maybe it’s not a bad thing at all.

 

End.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Gods. If he wanted a confirm that whatever was between them isn’t going anywhere he has it right now, since there’s no way a fucking mythical hero should have anything to do with him -_
> 
> _“Theon, how about you open this door?”_
> 
> _“No,” he answers at once. “I mean, uh, I - Your -”_
> 
> _“Don’t even do that,” Jon interrupts. “And really - you asshole, let me in already. You didn’t need to leave.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I actually had two more prompts for this 'verse that I never reposted on here AND NOW I'M CLEANING UP so I'm doing it. One was for Theon finding out Jon is AA in this 'verse - which is the one posted here -, the other was the AU version where the contrary happens xD Anyway, expect more of the usual. CRACK EVERYWHERE.

The first thing he thinks after he slams the door behind him is,  _can’t anything go right for more than one moon?_  

Which is probably not what you should think when your king, who’s also  _technically_  someone you kissed on the evening he was coronated and with whom you might have kissed some more, even if you didn’t get any further and neither of you has pressed for it, is apparently -

A fucking  _mythical hero_.

Well, what do you have to assume when the man’s sword starts  _glowing_ , and he’s been brought back from the dead and according to Lord Reed, who just joined their forces, the man is actually  _Rhaegar Targaryen’s_  son?

Gods. If he wanted a confirm that whatever was between them isn’t going anywhere he has it right now, since there’s no way  _a fucking mythical hero should have anything to do with him_  -

“Theon, how about you open this door?”

“No,” he answers at once. “I mean, uh, I - Your -”

“ _Don’t_  even do that,” Jon interrupts. “And really - you asshole, let me in already. You didn’t need to  _leave_.”

On one side Theon would rather  _not_. On the other he’s going to have to face the man sooner or later, and so he opens the door.

Jon isn’t - well. It’s not that he  _changed_  or anything. But now that Theon  _knows -_

Jon walks into the room and closes the door, then leans against the wall next to it - good thing he’s not blocking the way out. For a moment Theon feels his chest swelling with  _something_ he can’t quite name.

“I did. Need to leave,” Theon finally says. “And really, it’s better that we cut it off here and now because after  _that_  -”

“Theon, how do you think  _I_  am taking the news?”

“Sorry?”

“It was bad already when everyone thought I was some kind of bloody demigod when I came back the first time. Now they apparently have  _proof_  of that, I find out that I have a role to play in some prophecy and that my father - well, that my father wasn’t  _my father_ , and that - that -  _he_ , I mean, Lord Stark, whatever it is that we are now, apparently managed to fool  _everyone_  me first and foremost with it, and do you think that I’m  _not_  regretting all the times I wished my surname  _wasn’t_  Snow? Gods, I can’t even -”

“He loved you,” Theon cuts him.

“Sorry?”

“He didn’t  _fool_  you. Well, technically, but - we both knew your father, Jon. He brought that secret to his grave because if anyone else knew the king would have you meeting the same end Rhaegar Targaryen’s children met, and knowing Lord Stark - well, he could have only done that out of love, not malice or anything. Maybe he could have told you, but -” He takes a deep breath. “Think about it, because I can assure you that my own father sure as hell wouldn’t have done such a thing for me.”

For a moment, neither of them speaks.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says then.

“What? You have nothing to apologize -”

“No, I do. You’re - you were right. I just - I couldn’t really - I  _can’t_  process it, all right? And the last thing I need is people treating me differently because of it. I couldn’t take it when I was Lord Commander, I barely could when they crowned me, and now - don’t, all right? Please just don’t.”

Theon swallows. “I can try, but you can’t expect me to think that after  _that_  you would -”

“And why not? Did that change me already?” Jon asks, sounding bitter. “And don’t lie to me, I thought we were past that.”

“You didn’t,” Theon sighs, “I never said that. But you can’t be implying that -”

“What I am implying is that I’d like if things didn’t change  _completely_. I’m - I never asked for it, all right? I’m not even sure I fucking want it. If  _everyone_  starts treating me different -”

And then Theon suddenly remembers Robb telling him a very similar thing a long time ago and he can’t help the flinch that comes next.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asks.

Theon doesn’t think he needs to know that Robb had the same exact dilemma. And what did he tell Robb back in the day?  _Don’t be an idiot, you can do it. I know you can. If you really insist, I’m not going to call you Your Grace that much._

He swallows, takes a step forward and puts his hands on the sides of Jon’s cloak, letting the cloth fill up the empty space where his left ring finger should have been.

“It’s - it was nothing. I just remembered something, but that’s not - don’t worry about it. What I meant is - I already don’t know what in the seven hells you were seeing  _before_  now, I guess I can’t really picture  _whatever_  this is -” He gestures in between the two of them. “- After what just happened.”

“Really.” Jon’s hands cover his own. They’re warm. “Why?”

“Because I barely had anything to offer  _before_ , never mind now.”

“And that’s not how it works because that’s not the reason  _whatever_  this is exists.” Jon does sound fairly sure about that.

“It’s not.”

“No,” Jon confirms. “Gods, you always were such a fucking pushover and it seemed like you couldn’t lose a chance to show off and  _now_  you have to start doing the exact opposite?”

“Maybe there’s less to show off.”

“My brother disagrees. That shot during the battle  _was_  bragging-worthy. You can absolutely show off. But that’s not the point. The point is that nothing has to change unless you want it to. Do you?”

“… no,” he eventually admits.

“Then it doesn’t. Clear?”

Theon looks back up at him. There’s absolutely  _nothing_  changed in Jon’s eyes and they didn’t turn purple or start glowing overnight. Actually, he looks scared shitless, not that Theon can’t understand the feeling.

He smiles a tiny bit. “Clear.  _Jon_. Doesn’t mean that sword of yours doesn’t creep me out.”

“Not as much as it creeps  _me_  out,” Jon replies, even if he sounds relieved. Theon doesn’t know what to expect as Jon’s forehead touches his, but then nothing else happens and he just - doesn’t move and savors the moment. It’s fairly nice, and Jon’s hands are still wrapped around his own, and -

Maybe things don’t have to change after all, do they?

 

End.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for this one the anon said, _I've just read a bunch of crackpot theories about Theon being Azor Ahai, like he was reborn among salt (iron islands) and smoke (burned winterfell), he was a "prince that was promised" to be killed, Theon died and became Reek but then he was reborn, he sacraficed his beloved (Robb). Like pure crack, but I prompt you to write this into your awesome Jon/Theon Crack AU :D:D:D_ I did. So this is basically THE AU OF THE CRACK AU WHERE THEON IS AZOR AHAI never mind me this is exactly what it says on the lid. *saunters back downwards*

“No.”

“Theon -”

“ _No_ , all right?”

“Well, it  _does_  add up,” Lord Seaworth mutters, and  _no_ , Theon is absolutely  _not_  even considering this option.

“ _How_  does that fucking add up?!” In any other occasion he’d think twice before swearing in front of someone else that’s not Jon, and he barely can do it freely around  _him_ , but the current situation is making him forget a lot of things.

Especially,  _the glowing bow_ he’s holding in his hands is enough to make him forget a lot of things, period.

Lord Seaworth shrugs. “As far as I recall - and I think I recall  _well_  given how many times I had to hear it - that prophecy said…  _when the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone_. And what did  _she_  say again, right,  _there will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him_. And maybe it’s not a  _sword_ , but that bow surely seems  _glowing_  to me.”

And it’s hot to the touch, even if to Theon it’s barely warm and anyone who’s tried to hold it has let it fall down because it burned too much.

“Listen, it has to be a coincidence.”

“Doesn’t look like that to me,” Sansa says carefully, her eyes fixed on his bow.

“Well, where did you see  _red stars bleeding_?”

Jon shrugs. “Well, didn’t you see that red comet back when you sailed for Pyke? Everyone I talk to says that all of Westeros saw it. Sounds like a bleeding red star to me.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Theon admits - and he thought that thing would be his luck. Sure.  _His luck_. “And that’s about the one thing that adds up! I mean, what do you take the  _cold breath of darkness_ has to do with me?”

“White Walkers are coming,” Lord Seaworth shrugs. “Seems to me like the cold breath of darkness is covered.”

“Damn - right, very well, and  _who says I was reborn among salt_?”

“Don’t you all have weird ceremonies in the Islands?” Lord Seaworth asks, and Theon is about to tell him that it’s  _not_  the point, but -

But  _damn it_.

“Listen,” he says slowly, “ _fine_ , when I decided to side with my father I had to be - reborn in the name of the Drowned God or  _something_  and in order to do it a priest lets sea water fall upon your forehead,  _right_ , but that’s not -”

“Sounds fairly plausible to me,” Jon shrugs. “And - er, I wouldn’t - I mean, you said - didn’t you  _really_  think you were, you know,  _that_  thing Ramsay named you for at some point? Because - well, if now you’re  _yourself_  again the whole dying and being reborn part of that prophecy would fit.”

Theon  _can’t bloody believe his own ears_. “No. No, there’s just no bloody way. And anyway if it was supposed to go like in the original story, I remember that there was an entire part about sacrificing the man’s beloved or  _something_  -”

“Nissa Nissa,” Sansa supplies. Of course  _she_  would remember that.

“Right,  _thank you_ , and  _when_  did I drive a sword through  _my beloved’_ s heart? Because I don’t remember  _that_  happening, do -” He doesn’t finish because the moment he looks at the three other people in the room they  _avert_  their eyes and admittedly do  _not_  look at him. 

What in the seven hells are they even thinking about, Theon ponders for a moment, but  _then_  -

“No.”

“Theon, really -”

“ _No._  Just no. I can’t - that’s not - there’s no bloody way in hell that it’s  _him_.”

“It’s fine,” Sansa says, slowly. “Really, it is, we thought it was - I mean, no one is mad at you for that anymore. We can just say it.”

“No.”

“Theon -”

“ _No_. I refuse to accept that I took the worst decision of my entire life because of a  _prophecy_ , all right? I refuse. No way. I’m  _not_  a mythical hero, this entire thing is some kind of mistake and Robb is  _not_  -  _that_. All right? He’s not. Seven hells,  _someone_ in this room  _literally came back to life_  and you’re telling  _me_  that  _I_  am the one who died and was reborn? The bow came from  _him_  anyway!”

“Well,  _yes_ ,” Jon admits, “but it never  _glowed_  when I had it. Or when Ygritte had it. I fear it’s not me.”

“No. Please don’t even try to imply it. I’m not -  _I’m not_ , and I refuse to hear otherwise.”

Jon shrugs, then looks at the other two. He goes next to Sansa and whispers something - she nods, they talk a bit to Lord Seaworth and then he leaves with Sansa. Jon stays, though.

“Jon, if you’re about to convince me -”

“Listen, believe me, I understand how you feel because from what Melisandre said it sounded like it had to be  _me_  and I was not - I didn’t  _want_  it, either. Now, I will not lie and say that I’m not relieved that it’s not me -”

“ _Jon_  -”

“But I - I understand it, all right?”

“It’s not that I don’t  _want_  it,” Theon sighs, putting the bow against the wall and breathing in - he really doesn’t want to be looking at it right now. “It’s that  _there is no way that it’s me_.”

“And why’s that?”

“Jon, for -  _look at me_. I am not - heroes are for songs. Life is not a bloody songs. And in no song  _I_  would be the hero. Are you even serious?”

Jon just  _looks_  at him. “Theon -”

“Jon, if  _that_  is true then it means everything I did happened because it  _had_  to, and I cannot accept it. All right? I cannot. If it was  _me_  then I can just blame myself, if it was something  _else_  -” He doesn’t even finish the sentence because he knows he’d break down in tears if he did, but then Jon moves closer - his fingers wrap around Theon’s and he doesn’t look at how more ruined his own look in comparison to Jon’s, even if they’re also rough and covered in scars.

“So maybe it was meant to be. You don’t have to like it.  _No one_  has to like it.  _I_  don’t like it. But I think that you should stop thinking it couldn’t be  _you_.”

“Jon -”

“You made mistakes, and you betrayed Robb, it’s true, but he also took his own bad decisions and we all know that. I don’t blame him for it and given what you did to make up for it, it’s useless to blame you  _now_. You survived something I can’t even imagine surviving and you’re still here trying to make up for it, I think it says a lot about what kind of person you really are.”

“Jon, I’m not -”

“There’s  _nothing_  wrong if you are,” Jon interrupts, one of his hands moving up to Theon’s face.

“I think there is,” Theon sighs, not trying to get away from it.

“I don’t. No one whose opinion matters around here does. Just know that, all right?”

Theon isn’t sure he does, but his fingers grip tighter around Jon’s and he doesn’t know what happens now, but at least  _this_  isn’t changing, and for now it’s enough.

 

End.


End file.
